


That Stupid Smirk

by SeaofTopaz



Series: Portraits [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Married Couple, Married Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, POV Sansa Stark, Parents Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaofTopaz/pseuds/SeaofTopaz
Summary: Sansa is woken up by her husband’s gentle kisses. As Lady of Winterfell, she needs to get out of bed soon, but Sandor pleasantly distracts her while their two seven-year-old sons stand outside their door, also wanting her attention.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Portraits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978948
Comments: 18
Kudos: 130





	That Stupid Smirk

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so comments with constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated : )

Sansa’s eyes fluttered open as she felt warm kisses slowly making their way down her neck, shoulders, and collar bones. Blooms of red and purple already decorated her frosty, pale skin from their activities last night—activities which pulled her away from the dining hall earlier than was appropriate.

But with some effort, she trained her dog to leave his love marks below her neck, for the collars of her dresses were not high enough to conceal them. It wouldn’t be disastrous if anyone saw them, after all, she was a married woman and could do as she pleased, but she preferred to keep propriety at the forefront of her steely appearance as lady of the keep.

She closed her eyes again and hummed a low, contented moan as her husband made his way lower and lower. He laid gentle kisses on her breasts, down to her ribs, and then to her hips. She wound her fingers at the back of his head in his unruly hair to pull him closer as he worshipped her body.

She could tell he fully intended to give her the lord’s kiss, but she had a full day ahead. If they started now, he would keep her in bed into the late morning. Sansa looked at him and urged him back up.

“I need to get ready for the day,” she spoke, her voice still filled with sleep.

He propped himself over her, cradled between her slim thighs, with an arm on either side of her body. She smiled. Sandor would always be a fearsome warrior, but in her bed, he was her obedient hound... most of the time. He returned it with a small, crooked smile of his own that she knew was only for her.

“Aye Little Bird,” he replied, laying more kisses on her face and finally her lips. “But I think Winterfell will manage without their lady for another hour or two.” He tweaked her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, making Sansa gasp in pleasure. His mouth quickly covered hers. Their tongues danced around each other’s, battling for dominance.

She couldn’t help from indulging for just a little while before she had to get up. She would put a stop to this in a moment.

She responded eagerly to his touches and moaned her satisfaction into his mouth. His massive hand, calloused from years of hard labor, pulled her right calf to wrap around his back. He pressed himself closer to her, allowing her to feel his hard, muscled frame against her breasts. She didn’t notice his other hand methodically creeping down to her sex until he made one long stroke through her lips.

Her back arched as she let out a gasp. His fingers continued to stroke her in all the right places. After years of lovemaking, they each possessed a detailed map of the other’s body. They could play one another as a musician plays an instrument, strumming them tight.

Sansa almost forgot about her morning duties and was about to give in to her desires when she heard small feet racing down the stone corridor toward their room. Apparently Sandor did not hear, or perhaps he was ignoring them, for he continued his ministrations on her body.

“Mother!” A young voice called from outside the door. “Eddard took my dagger and won’t give it back because he lost his!”

Sandor paused and looked in her eyes. He wore a mischievous smirk. He‘s planning something. Seven help me, she thought.

“I did not!” Another voice called. The sounds of her seven-year-old, rambunctious twins pushing and shoving was clear.

“Eddard! Brandon!” She yelled.

Sandor chose that moment to pinch the nub at the top of her sex. A hot bolt of pleasure shot through her. She fought back a moan and glared daggers at him as she tried to continue with a steady voice, “Break your fast in the dining hall, then see the maester for your lessons.”

Both children groaned. “But mother! What about my dagger?”

“Yes, what about his dagger?” Sandor whispered into her hair, pressing his hard arousal against her woman’s place.

“Sandor!” She whispered back, feigning annoyance. But he could see right through her, so he slid the length of his member against her folds, not entering quite yet, taking care to rub against bundle of nerves that gave her the most pleasure with each stroke. She swallowed a moan as he slid himself up and down, up and down.

She must have taken too long to respond, as her son repeated, “Mother?”

She tried to respond, “We will take care of it after your lessons. You have no need for it now anywa—“ she gasped as she felt him push into her. “Sandor!” She admonished and swatted his back, but he merely smirked into her neck as he bottomed out.

“Is father in there with you, mother?”

“Father is _in_ mother,” he whispered in her ear. She wanted to slap the smug look off his face. Gods, she thought. He would be the death of her.

“Yes, he is, dear.” Her sons knew their father always slept in her chambers, but as far as they knew, sleeping was the only activity happening. She didn’t care to have _that_ conversation quite yet.

He pulled almost entirely out of her, right before thrusting back in. She stifled her groan in his shoulder. He began a relentless pace, and their boys were still outside the door.

“Go break your fast.” She called out to them. “We’ll join you shortly.” She heard the two running down the hall, most likely racing each other as they frequently did.

With that, Sansa wrapped both of her legs around Sandor and pulled him closer. This encouraged him, and he sucked more blooms on her shoulder as he thrust into her. He liked leaving these marks on her. She assumed it was some masculine satisfaction of claiming her, but she wasn’t complaining.

Soon enough, both of them were panting and nearing their peaks. Sansa reached between their joined bodies and rubbed her pearl. Her inner walls fluttered, and her awareness narrowed down to the delicious, explosive sensation. She moaned his name and held him closer. Sandor came quickly after that, releasing his warm seed into her with a loud groan. His thrusts became slow and lethargic before he unceremoniously rolled off of her, heart racing.

He pulled her slim and sated form against his. She could still see that stupid smirk on his face, but she found she didn’t actually mind.


End file.
